I can’t quite take it all in. This is so surreal, and it’s made even stranger by the slight Skype time delay. I’m trying to let all the information sink in, but I realise I’ve just left Katy staring at the screen, waiting for me to do something, to react.
Eventually I manage to speak, but I can’t say anything more profound than, “That’s amazing.” Then I sigh as I remember that this will never work out. “But haven’t you read the last post?” I add. “The blog’s over …”
“Of course I’ve read the last post!” Katy exclaims. “Everyone in the office has read it. We’re all totally hooked!”
“Well then you’ll know — there’s no more amazing sexual adventures to be had.”
“That doesn’t matter. In fact, it makes your story even better: it’s not just one girl’s journey of sexual discovery. It’s how one girl’s journey of sexual discovery led her to true love! Don’t you see? It’s perfect. It’s an ordinary girl, just the girl next door, meeting her prince charming! It’s what every modern girl dreams of. I wish I’d thought of it myself! So? Are you in? I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll make sure you’re looked after and that your identity is kept secret … In fact, anonymity really works for us. It’s better if you’re the girl next door. That way, readers can imagine themselves in your shoes.”
I take a deep breath and try to think about Katy’s offer.
I can’t believe it.
I’ve only just decided to focus on a writing career and already I’m being offered a book deal? This is crazy …
But at the same time, Katy’s right: this is perfect. If I’m gonna do this, I need someone I can trust, and I know Katy will look after me.
“Yes,” I say after a long pause. “I’m in! But it has to be anonymous, okay?”
“Of course,” Katy replies. “Now … Tell me. This Carson? He’s Prince C, right?! I knew it!”
§
To: [email protected] and [email protected]
Dear Gentlemen,
I am hosting a dinner party this Friday night and I would be delighted if the two of you would attend. To titillate your appetites, here is the menu:
Starter
Twice-baked goat’s cheese soufflés with apple & walnut salad
Main
Roast duck breast with maple syrup vinaigrette
Desert
Chocolate, hazelnut & salted caramel tart
Carson, if you would like to come round for eight pm, that would be great? And Dad - you already live here, so you’d better be home!
See you both on Friday,
M xx
§
It all sounded so easy, back when I was planning the menu.
And I even had fun shopping for all the ingredients. The Whole Foods near here is amazing (even if it did cost a small fortune). It probably would have been cheaper to treat them to a meal out somewhere, but there’s nothing like home-cooked food, right?
But right now, the kitchen looks like a bomb’s hit it. I’ve got three different timers set, I’ve used every single pot and pan in the apartment, and I think it’s all only gonna look worse before it looks better.
But I still, this meal is going to be amazing. I’m determined …
After all, this is a celebration.
But the strange thing about this is, they don’t yet know what we’re celebrating, and I still don’t quite know how to break the news to both of them!
§
A couple of hours later, things are looking much better. The kitchen’s once more clean and tidy, I’ve done all the washing up, and finally everything is prepared and ready to go in the oven.
I’ve set the table, too, and I’m really pleased with the arrangement. Dad didn’t have much to work with, he didn’t even have any matching napkins, but I’ve managed to turn it into a theme: I bought all these crazy clashing flowers and the whole thing looks pretty cool.
But there’s one thing left that still needs fixing up: me.
I’m not wearing any makeup, my hair’s gone limp from the steam in the kitchen, and I’m covered head to toe in flour.
I need to get ready, and quick ...
§
“Melissa, that was amazing!” Dad says, scooping the very last crumbs of his chocolate and hazelnut tart up with his desert fork.
“I agree,” Carson says with a big smile.
And I can’t help but blush. “Oh it was nothing,” I murmur, trying my hardest to stay modest. But secretly, on the inside, I’m doing my happy dance.
It’s awesome how well they’re getting on together — even better than their first meeting, if that’s even possible.
Or maybe, this time the difference is me. This time, I’m relaxed too. I’m not nervous, I’m not scared that my dad’s about to embarrass me with stories about my childhood, and I’m not even trying to drag Carson away for some alone time. I’m just genuinely relishing seeing the two most important men in my life enjoying each other’s company. And if they can compliment me on my cooking in the process, then I’m certainly not going to complain!
“So what was all this in aid of?” Dad says, raising an eyebrow. “You two got something you want to tell me? You’re not engaged are you? No wait. I’ve got it,” he laughs. “You’re making me a grandfather already!”
“No Dad!” I hiss, feeling my cheeks burn even though I can tell he’s only joking. “I just wanted to cook you both a meal! Can’t a girl do that for her two favourite guys?”
“I suppose she can,” he laughs back.
But joke or not, I try to change the subject. The talk of engagement and babies? I don’t want to put Carson under that kind of pressure already.
And Dad’s been so unembarrassing up until this point. And suddenly it dawns on me that I’m the one who’s about to embarrass him. After all, I’m about to announce that I’m getting a book published about my sexual escapades.
Or am I?
Am I really going to tell them both, here, now?
Already I can feel myself chickening out.
It doesn’t seem like the right thing to say anymore. So, although I’m going to change the subject, it’s not going to be to that …
In keeping with Dad’s gentle ribbing, I decide to turn the tables and tease him right back.
“So Carson,” I ask as nonchalantly as I can. “I don’t suppose you know of any single women who might be interested in my father here? Any of Esme’s friends, perhaps?”
At this Carson laughs. “Oh no, no! I wouldn’t want to inflict Esme or any of her friends on anyone! But there is this woman who’s started working at my non-profit actually, and the more I think about it, the more I think you two would get along great actually!”
Dad gives us both a knowing glance, then yawns ostentatiously.
“You know what?” he says, making a big show of looking at his watch, not rising to the bait. “I’m beat. I think I’m gonna head up for an early night. I’ll leave you two love birds to it. And Carson, you know you’re welcome to stay over here any time you like?”
“Thanks, Mr Lane,” Carson says flashing Dad another one of his winning smiles.
“Please,” Dad says, pausing in the doorway for a moment. “Call me Alexi.”
I smile at Carson once we’re left alone in the kitchen. Then I stand up, take his hand, and lead him through to the living room.
We sit on the sofa.
“Actually, now we’re alone,” I say, “I do have something to tell you …”
As I say this, his eyes widen and he fidgets a little on the sofa.
“Why does that make me feel nervous?” he says quietly.
“No, no, no,” I interrupt, laying a hand on his wrist. “This is good … I think.”
I take a deep breath.
“Listen,” I begin. “You know how I said I wanted to focus on my writing?”
He nods.
“Well, I’ve been given an opportunity, an amazing opportunity in fact, but I’ll only take it u
p if you don’t mind, and you have to promise to be totally honest with me …”
“Okay,” he says slowly, still kind of confused.
“I know I said Girl After Dark was over. And it is, at least on the internet, anyway. But a few days ago, I spoke to my friend Katy. She works for a publishers, you see. One of the really old, respectable publishers in England, although they have offices here too. And she wants to turn my story into a book. Don’t worry. It would be totally anonymous and even though the blog started as kind of a hook up thing, that’s not the story they’re interested in. It’s more timeless than that. It’s just boy-meets-girl, that’s all. Do you understand? They want to know about the love story — about you and me. So …”
I take another deep breath, scanning his face.
I can see that he’s finding all this just as hard to take in as I did.
“What do you think?” I ask nervously. “You can take as much time as you want to think it over. I know it’s kind of crazy. But I’ve got a really good feeling about this. I trust Katy.”
He stays silent a moment longer, looking down at his hands, deep in thought, before his eyes meet mine once again.
“And you promise it’ll be totally anonymous?”
“Of course,” I say, trying to keep the rising excitement in my voice under control.
“It’s not that I’m ashamed of you or us in anyway,” he explains softly, “just that in my line of work, scandal isn’t really such a good thing.”
“Does that mean I can do it?” I say, clasping my hands together, hoping and praying that it does.
“I guess so,” he smiles back, and I squeal and hug him and kiss him, feeling a fresh rush of excitement.
I’m going to be a published author!
This is all working out better than I could have ever hoped!
“Now,” I say with a sheepish smile, “can you help me think of a way to break the news to my dad?”
From: [email protected]
Subject: You Were Warned
I thought my stepson was smart enough to leave you in the gutter where you belong. But obviously I was wrong.
I didn’t want to have to do this, but you were warned.
Now all of New York will know just what a tramp you are.
Esme
§
Maybe it says something about how crazy the last few months of my life have been, but when I wake up in the morning and the first thing I see is an email from my boyfriend’s stepmother, threatening me with destruction, I’m not even surprised.
I suppose I knew all along that she wasn’t going to keep her nose out of our business. So I’m not surprised, but I am scared.
Threats like this, from a woman like Esme, aren’t to be taken lightly. I know she’s used to getting exactly what she wants, and what she wants right now is to get rid of me.
I hear Carson sigh, by my side, still half asleep. He throws his arm around me and pulls me closer, his body so warm and comforting. Our bodies fit together so perfectly, it doesn’t matter that my Queen-size bed is so small.
I look at him and I’m seized with panic as I wonder exactly what Esme plans to do.
My mind scans back to the time she summoned me to meet her for coffee. She insinuated then that she knew all about the video of Vintage Honey that Will leaked online. Does she mean that she’s going to make sure that everyone in New York knows about that? But how bad would that really be? After all, I’ve told Carson and he doesn’t care. He’s only angry that someone betrayed my trust in the first place. So if Esme told all of New York society that her stepson’s new girlfriend was the girl in that video, surely she’s the only one who stands to lose? I mean, those people aren’t my friends. What do I care what they think?
But what if it’s not that? What if Esme’s got something else up her sleeve? What if she’s planning something that I can’t even imagine? I know she’s capable …
And as I’m trying to reassure myself that I’ve already told Carson everything about my past, I feel him stirring next to me.
I look over at him and he gives me a sleepy, innocent smile; not a care in the world.
“You okay?” he asks, puzzled when he sees the obvious look of panic on my face.
“I don’t know,” I explain. “I mean I am … I’m so glad I’m with you. But are you sure you want to be with me, too? I mean, your stepmother obviously hates me.”
“Hey, hey,” he laughs, brushing the hair from my face, his hands cupping my cheeks, his eyes searching out mine. “Where did all this come from? And anyway, I don’t care what Esme thinks. I thought we’d been over all that already. I want to be with you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I love you. Understand?”
“I love you, too,” I say with a smile, feeling myself relax once more. Because hearing him say those words, those three words that all lovers can’t get enough of hearing and saying, the words that are still so new to us, brings me right back to what’s important, right here.
“I love you,” I say again.
I love you, I think. I want to say it a thousand times.
“You don’t have to dash off straight away, do you?” I ask. “You’re always so busy.”
“I’ve got all morning,” he replies, as his toes start to brush against mine beneath the covers. And he’s got that look in his eye.
“Great,” I say, as I respond to the gentle brush of his toes by rubbing my slender legs against his, so strong and muscular in comparison. With a teasing tone in my voice, I carry on, “If we get up now, we’ve got time to grab breakfast and a walk before checking out the new exhibition at the Met.”
He smiles, raising himself up on one elbow and leaning over me, gently kissing me on the lips and then looking up and down my body. “Great idea,” he says as his fingertips begin to slowly graze my stomach in light circles, always getting close but never quite close enough to that place between my legs that’s begun to yearn for him now. “I don’t need to be in work until after lunch. So why don’t we get up right this second, clean the house, go for a jog, and stock up at Whole Foods, too?”
“Actually,” I reply with a smile, feeling his fingers move to my thigh now, my own hands beginning to stroke his chest, my movements just as teasing as his. And then, all of a sudden, I’ve pushed him back on the bed, thrown a leg over him, and I’m sitting on top of him. “The thing is,” I carry on, “I’ve entered us both into the New York City triathlon, so we’re gonna have to start our training right this minute!”
I’m enjoying this, I want to carry on teasing him further, but I’m stopped in my tracks by his hands grabbing my ass and drawing me down towards him, his hot hardness pushing right against my twitching clit, causing me to gasp as his motions force us to grind together, so slowly and perfectly, just the cotton of my panties and his boxer briefs stopping us from taking this to the next level.
He’s looking at me, eyes fixed on mine, daring me to carry on teasing him, to see if I’ll really get out of bed like I say. But there’s no force on this earth that would tear me away from Carson Ashcroft right now.
“Mind you …” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the slow, delicious movements of his cock brushing against me. And then I fake a tiny feeble cough, the kind of cough a kitten might make. “I think I might be coming down with something … I should probably spend the morning right here in bed …”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get sick,” he murmurs, his hands moving to my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek in a playful gesture of concern, his hips still bucking as we slowly grind together. “I take your condition very seriously, Melissa,” he says with a smile.
And with this, it’s his turn to take me by surprise. He lifts me up and off him, laying me back onto the bed, all in one easy motion, as he moves up and over me.
“I guess I’m going to have to check your temperature, all over,” he says with a grin.
“Do whatever you have to,” I say, trying to keep my face st
raight and serious. “After all, you’re the doctor …”
He moves over me, his fingers teasing my vest upwards, slowly uncovering my belly, his fingers tracing the delicate lines and patterns of my honeysuckle tattoo. And at his touch, I feel my skin flashing with electricity and anticipation. I shiver as he pulls my top up a little farther, slowly sliding it over my breasts, revealing them.
“Everything looks in order here,” he murmurs, his hands now gently cupping my breasts, before he leans in to softly kiss first my right nipple, then my left. “The patient seems to be responding well,” he says, as he teases them into hard, puckered little points.
Next he works his kisses back downwards, over my belly, then my panties, before hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband and quickly but deftly sliding them down over my legs and tossing them on the floor behind him.
His face moves right between my legs, and I gasp as I feel his tongue lap against my clit — somehow managing to be soft and urgent at once.
“Good,” he says between kisses, “everything seems to be in order here, too. I think I have just the medicine …”
And as he brings himself up, so that he’s right over me, I watch in anticipation as he pulls down his shorts, finally uncovering himself, his cock so hard and swollen. He brushes it gently between my folds, sending fresh shivers through me.
And then, so slowly and deliciously, he enters me.
“Does the patient want me to increase the dosage?” he whispers, the smile playing on his lips as he teases me with slow, sensual movements of his hips.
“Yes, doctor,” I reply, my voice trembling now.
Girl After Dark Page 21
